The Dancing Floor

by Rioghna

A Royal ball in Storybrooke? Why not?

The Dancing Floor

The envelope was hand-delivered, otherwise it would have been so much easier to ignore, or lose. It was lovely; very old fashioned and formal. A royal ball, in Storybrooke. Of course the Prince and Princess had come to talk to him about it beforehand. With no idea when or if they could get back home, and all of them still rattled from the events that had taken place over the last few months, Snow thought a ball was just the answer. It would be the sort of old fashioned affair that they used to have, invite everyone, mend fences, heal wounds, show off finery. The whole thing had made Rumplestiltskin uncomfortable. He'd never been much for socializing, or not since...he was trying to remember when Belle came in.

"What do you think, Belle?" Snow White asked as his love appeared from behind the curtain.

"About what?" she asked, confused. He smiled tenderly; she must have gotten caught up in a book back there and only came out because she had heard them.

"A ball, Belle, with the whole town to come, just like back home," Snow said, excitement in every line of her.

Belle was a serious girl, so she actually thought about it for a moment before answering, but Rumplestiltskin knew there was no hope. As much as he hated it, even he knew it was a good idea. People needed to mend, to heal. Only, he wasn't certain how welcome he would be. Yes, people had mostly stopped avoiding him. The Prince and Princess had been treating him as a trusted advisor. Admittedly he had been advising royal families for quite a while, including but not limited to Snow White's grandfather, and James' adopted Father's great grandfather (his great great grandfather, he had actually done in, but that was neither here nor there). Suffice it to say that Rumplestiltskin wasn't sorry that the line would die with George: in fact he was rather tempted to end George just to make sure (he'd never liked that family). However, he was used to sticking to the shadows, the information and advice he dispensed never openly associated with the Dark One, himself.

"It sounds like a good idea. It will take some time to plan though. When were you thinking?" she said, and before he could say another word, his beloved had a notebook out and was helping Snow White plan it. There was no way he was going to get out of this, but if it made Belle happy… He sighed.

So it was no surprise when the envelope was delivered to his door by Snow White herself. "Belle's been such a big help, I thought I would bring this one by personally," she said when he reluctantly invited her into the house. He'd had more visitors in the last two months than he had in the entire 28 years before that, and while he was getting used to it, it was still tempting to play the old monster, slam the door, and retreat to the basement where his spinning wheel stood.

Belle was also thrilled about it. He could see that from her smile, and regardless of how he felt, if it made her happy, he would do it. That was another aspect, being in public with Belle. It wasn't that he was ashamed of their relationship; he wasn't, never could be. But Belle deserved better; she should be attending the ball with a handsome prince, not an old sorcerer with a bad leg and a worse reputation. He was certain that there was whispering behind their backs, people wondering why she stayed with them, especially among those who knew that she had been a part of a deal. He still lived in fear that he wouldn't be good enough; that somehow, some way, even true love would not be enough. With all his knowledge and all his years of life it was just too good, so instead he clung to what he had, even if it meant going to a ball to please his lady.

Belle was planning her gown. She knew this ball wasn't something that Rumplestiltskin would go to voluntarily if she wasn't determined. But she also knew what was said behind their backs, sometimes in front of her as well, since no one would dare in front of Rumplestiltskin. More than once she had taken someone aside and challenged them on it, and she was sick and tired of it. She was not going to hide, not her love, not her lover. Of course she had Snow and Abigail who understood. Even Bae had been accepting once he had understood the changes in his father that had come with their love, which had been a miracle in and of itself. That relationship was still awkward, but getting better. Her father was another matter; he accepted but would have done anything to change it, up to and including trying to throw any number of men in her path. He had begged and pleaded and told her the deal was no longer valid. The stupid man had even tried to talk to Rumplestiltskin, who had shook his head and said that he had released her long ago.

"Well are you sure it's true love? Have you ever tried not to be in love with him?" he had said to her. She had looked at him as if he lost his mind.

"That's like saying have I ever tried not to be a woman, or curious, or…or any of the things that are a part of my nature; it just is."

"But maybe if you looked at someone else," Maurice had said. But she was done; she had walked out on him and he had been very careful to keep his mouth closed after that. He seemed to forget that she had always made her own choices.

So the gown was ordered; Belle refused to let him see it until that night, because she wanted to surprise him. Rumplestiltskin, finally desperate to make his lady happy, asked the advice of Prince Charming on his own attire, not certain how traditional it was all going to be and not wanting to embarrass his lady by showing up in the wrong attire. It had been difficult, that; he was not a man who found it easy to ask for help, but the Prince managed to help him and even got him round to the tuxedo fitting without letting Belle know. Two could play at that game, after all.

Midsummer's Eve, traditionally celebrated back in their old land with food, friends, dancing, and other pastimes was, of course, perfect for the ball. So perfect that even the weather was cooperating; warm but not hot, and the mosquitos had been keeping their heads down so far. The afternoon of the party, Belle had rushed upstairs to get herself prepared, while Rumplestiltskin tried not to worry about the evening. She looked so happy, and while he was truly dreading the evening, he would have willingly crawled naked down Main Street in midwinter to make her happy. It was painful to admit, but she made him a better person, and he would do nothing to ever change that. Instead, when she called down from upstairs that she was finished in the bathroom, he went upstairs slowly, to tend his own preparations. Belle, in an effort to keep the secret a moment longer, was getting dressed in her old room, leaving him free to dress in his own room.

It took Rumplestiltskin very little time to wash, brush and shave, and less to dress, leaving him plenty enough time for the nervousness to set in again. The tuxedo was fitted like his suits, and the silk bow tie was the shade of red that Belle particularly loved on him, as was the waist coat. He brushed his jacket to rid it of dust particles that weren't actually there and walked downstairs. In the past when he was uncomfortable, he just shut people out. He would become abrupt or simply walk away. Tonight Belle would expect him to be charming, polite and social. Standing in the lounge, he was starting to give serious thoughts to a large whiskey when he heard Belle emerge from the room and walk down the hall, the sound of her heels echoing in the hallway above.

Turning, he was meet by a vision. Belle, the most beautiful woman in Storybrooke, and she was coming down the stairs, looking at him as if he was the only man in the world. The gown reminded him of the one she had been wearing when they first met, but the colour was richer, the skirt not as full, and he was almost certain that the original dress did not show her bosom to such an advantage. For a moment, a stab of jealousy went through him at the thought of anyone but him seeing her like that, so completely beautiful. "You are going to be the most beautiful woman there," he said, reaching for her hand. "Do you have any idea how tempting it is to try to convince you to stay? I shall have to fight my way through your admirers just to be near you."

"I don't think so. Besides, you are going to be the most handsome man there." Belle took his hand in hers, and went straight into his arms.

"Think I need to get your eyes checked, love. I can make an appointment for you next week," he said with a wry smile.

"My eyes are perfect; you are perfect. You are my true love, and nothing and no one is ever going to change that," she said, raising herself to kiss him. "When are you going to accept that?" she whispered against his ear.

"I'm trying, love, really I am," Rumplestiltskin said. "But come, tonight is supposed to be magical." Belle grabbed a beautiful gold shawl he didn't remember her having, and a small handbag. He took her arm and led her to the front door.

Outside, the old Cadillac was parked, gleaming in the evening light; the man that occasionally helped him out in the pawn shop, Mr. Dove, stood beside it with a rare smile on his face, holding the door for her. Dove had worked for Rumplestiltskin both before and after the curse. Though Belle didn't know the details, she had never asked; it just wasn't that important. The two of them went down the steps, and were guided into the back of the black car and whisked off into the bright evening.

There was no place in Storybrooke big enough to hold the kind of ball that Snow White was envisioning, so they had planned it for the park. When the car arrived, Dove got out and held the door, while Rumplestiltskin got himself out as gracefully as he could. Belle watched him, thinking that her love was remarkably smooth and graceful for a man who walked with a cane, but then she found all his movements beautiful. It would only be better if he could come to believe her. It had taken more time than she would have thought possible to convince him that she wanted him. Love, he accepted. It was magic and he understood that; there was no discounting that was what they had. But the fact that she wanted to have a real relationship with him, a physical relationship despite their age difference and his injury, that had taken a bit of convincing. Still when he looked at her, smiled and reached for her hand, she knew that she would never let go.

There was a carpet set up in the grass, leading from the parking lot down the hill to where everything was set up. Rumplestiltskin looked down the hill. At the bottom where the land was fairly flat, tables had been set up. There was a large dance floor in the center, and music was playing from hidden speakers. While any number of people in Storybrooke played music, there was nothing like an organized band. The entire area was lit by fairy lights They were the electrical kind, since the Blue Fairy and her sisters had as little magic as he did (probably even less as theirs was reliant on fairy dust, while his was not necessarily) which were supplemented by torches set round the edges and candles on every table. Overall the effect was rather beautiful, he had to admit. Feeling a bit old fashioned and definitely like bits of his old self, he turned and offered a formal bow to Belle. "My lady, will you accompany me?" he said with a flourish. He wasn't going to enjoy himself, but he wasn't going to allow Belle to see that.

"Of course, good sir," she said, laughing as she dropped to a curtsey and then took his arm. They were neither early nor fashionably late. Already many of the tables were occupied, and others were filling plates from a buffet set up on one side. At the end of the carpet was a very stiff looking man that he vaguely remembered had been a herald to the late King Leopold, who had spent his time in Storybrooke as the maître d' of the only upscale restaurant in town. Somewhere he had dug out something similar to his old frock coat and was announcing people as they arrived. Rumplestiltskin started to release Belle's arm, to allow her to make her entrance without him; in the past he had preferred to only make an entrance when it served his purpose. But Belle felt his hand loosen and put a hand on his. Besides, he thought, she might leave me later, but right now, tonight she is mine, the most beautiful woman here, and it wouldn't hurt to remind a few people of that. He kept his hand in place, squeezed hers just a bit, and then stepped forward for their turn in the spotlight. He smiled a little bit as the man tried to figure out the correct protocol, mentally sorting whether she be announced with her noble title, or he as her escort, not to mention 'the Dark One' being first. Finally he came to a decision, and announced them.

"The Lady Belle and Rumplestiltskin," the old man said, looking a little pale, as if afraid that getting it wrong would wind him up as a garden pest, but they stepped past him and into the party. Charming and his wife immediately came up to greet them and told them they were sitting together. He smiled as well as he could. They were trying to be pleasant, trying to act as if it was normal for there to be some kind of family solidarity. After all, they did share a grandson.

"You look wonderful, Belle," Snow said. "I told you that dress would suit you." The Princess was wearing her usual white, looking bright and happy as always. Next to her, Emma Swan, still getting used to the role of princess and heir apparent, was wearing a lovely blue gown that, if he were any judge, probably had his son unable to take his eyes off her. Certainly he would have found her so, if he had eyes for any woman other than his Belle.

"Hey Gold, you actually clean up pretty good," she said to him. He bent forward and kissed her hand with old fashioned but impersonal charm. Not that he didn't like the Sheriff; he did, but he was still very careful where he stood with her. She and his son were still trying to sort themselves out, and though he smelled the magic of true love, telling them would be wasted. It was up to them to figure it out.

"You are too kind, Princess Emma," he said.

"Don't Princess Emma me," she said quietly, low enough that her mother couldn't hear, still talking to Belle as she was. "Please, you are probably the one person outside of Neal and Henry that I can count on to treat me the way you always have." It was said low and urgently, and when he looked into her eyes, he could see she was just as uncomfortable as he was.

"Very well, Sheriff Swan, you do look lovely this evening though."

"Thanks, I..." But before she could answer, Charming was pointing out their table, and he took Belle's arm again and steered her towards their seats.

The food was eaten, and Rumplestiltskin was sitting at the table nursing a glass of wine that he wished he could waste the magic on to turn into whiskey, and watching Belle dance. The first to ask her was Charming of course. He had already danced with his wife and his daughter, and he knew that he was only being polite, after all; it wasn't as if he could dance particularly with his leg. Belle had been reluctant, but he wanted her to have a good time. Besides, Charming meant no harm by it; like himself, there was only one woman for him. Then it had been Bae, and how could he refuse his own son, or even be jealous?

"Mind if I have a dance with the second most beautiful woman in the room?" he had asked. Emma was dancing with her father. "As long as you don't mind, Pop?" the young man asked, looking at his Father. 'Pop' had taken a little getting used to. His son had always called him 'papa' before but that was for a young boy, and he was no longer that.

"If Belle wishes..." he had said, vaguely. She had looked at him, but he had smiled and urged her off. Then the dwarf, Gumpy, again harmless. He had come to the ball escorting Astrid, formerly of the convent and the sisterhood of fairies. Grumpy looked significantly cleaned up in a tuxedo that might have been a bit tight or perhaps just made him rather uncomfortable being in it. Astrid was dancing with one of his brother dwarves, probably stepping on his feet; she was that clumsy. Of course, what could one expect of a fairy who had taken up with a dwarf. She had left the sisters shortly after the curse broke, and he had let her have Belle's old apartment over the library for what was perhaps less that it was worth, but irritating the Blue Fairy just a bit had been worth it. Looking across the room, he saw Jefferson dancing with his daughter Grace. He nodded to the Hatter; they had been associates over the years and almost friends, especially since they came to Storybrooke where the curse and the pressure had finally shattered most of his sanity. Fortunately with the breaking of the curse, and getting his daughter back, he was almost back to his old self, and his daughter was looking at him as if he was the only thing in her world. He sighed, remembering when his son had looked at him like that, but that was a long time ago. Now, well, at least he had found his son, they were speaking again, and he was quite enjoying his grandson.

Almost as if he had conjured him up, Henry appeared at his side. "Hey, Grandfather," he said. They were still working out the bugs. When the boy had first found out that he was Charming's grandson, he had dubbed him Grandpa. He was still trying to figure out what to call Rumplestiltskin though.

"Hey, Henry, are you enjoying yourself?" he asked smiling, this time genuinely.

"It's ok, I'm not really into all this dancing and you know, stuff. I keep having to dance with girls." The tone of disgust in the young man's voice was enough to make him to laugh. That he definitely remembered from Bae's youth. But Papa, why do they have to turn into GIRLS? He'd asked, sometime when he was about Henry's age and discovered that his best friend, the daughter of the village smith, no longer wanted to go to the woods and find toads with him.

"I'm not much of a dancer, myself," he said. "Besides, it will change soon enough."

"You mean they won't want to do all this dancing stuff?" Henry asked skeptically.

"No, lad, you'll just stop minding."

"If you say so." He didn't look like he believed him but decided best not to argue with his grandfather.

"Actually Henry, can you do me a favour?" Rumplestiltskin said, looking to the dance floor and his eyes hardening a bit.

"A favour?" the boy said with a smile, a favour from his Grandfather usually involved a deal of some sort, though he knew it was only a game between them. "What kind of favour?" He followed the older man's gaze. His father was back to dancing with his mom. To Henry, they looked kind of gooey at each other, the way his other grandparents, and even his grandfather and Belle, looked at one another (though they tried to hide it a lot better). Meanwhile, Belle was dancing with Dr. Whale(formerly Frankenstein). He seemed okay now, but Henry still wasn't sure about the guy. When he looked at his grandfather, he could tell he wasn't either, certainly not with him dancing with Belle, and the way his hand kept drifting. Rumplestiltskin's one hand was tight on the head of his cane, the other holding the wine glass so tight he was afraid it would break.

"Could you go and ask Belle for a dance?" he said, trying for calm, but Henry knew better, and he kind of understood it too.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I trust that guy," he said to his grandfather. "For Belle, I'll even do it without a trade." He gave his grandfather a cheeky grin, and went off to the dance floor.

"Hey, can I cut in?" he said, remembering what his Father had said earlier when the same guy was dancing with his Mom. Dr. Frankenstein looked down at the young men and sighed.

"Of course, Henry," Belle said. "You don't mind, Victor, do you?"

"No, of course not, Belle," he said, and with a formal bow, took himself off to nurse his irritation at the fact that the most beautiful women in this town seemed to all have more than their fair share of male companionship. Of course, in the case of Belle, perhaps it was just as well. They said Rumplestiltskin had little or no magic in this world, but he wasn't sure he wanted to test that theory.

"Thank you, Henry. Was that your idea, or did your grandfather send you to rescue me?" she asked with a smile.

"Both."

"Good, the doctor is nice enough but he has sweaty hands and he kept trying to look...well, in places he shouldn't with a lady he knows is already attached," she ended, not exactly sure what was appropriate to say to her lover's grandson.

"Belle, can I ask you a question?" Henry looked up at her.

"Your grandfather would point out that you just did, but certainly, you may."

"Are you going to be my grandmother? I mean, are you and my grandfather..." Belle thought about it, it was such an awkward question, and there was no good way to answer it.

"I don't know what to tell you Henry, really."

"But you and Grandfather, that's true love, yeah? So when are you going to get married?" She looked at the boy; he was loving but a bit exasperating.

"Henry, he hasn't asked me, and I can hardly ask him. It's not the way things are done where we are from."

"But if he asked you, you'd say yes, wouldn't you?" the boy persisted. She wondered a little; he had been talking to his grandfather, could he have been prompted? But no, that wasn't Rumplestiltskin. As much as she would love to marry him, she knew he was forever fearful that she would wake up one day and leave.

"If he asks, of course I will marry him," she said, smiling at the boy.

"Cool, so now I just have to figure out what to call you too. I wish I had known about him earlier, I mean about being my grandfather. My dad calls him Pop, so he could have been Grandpa, and then David could have been Granddad." Belle laughed and turned around the floor again.

After dancing with his grandson, Belle had returned to the table to spend some time with him. Rumplestiltskin got up and got her another glass of wine; it was the least he could do, as he could hardly drag his leg out onto the dance floor and embarrass her. Never, but watching her dance with every man in town was wearing on him a little. But when the giant came and asked his Belle to dance, how could he not allow it. He knew the young man, for young he was by giant standards, had probably taken almost the entire evening to have the courage to ask her. There was no harm in him, anyway. The dwarves had pretty much accepted him as one of them, and he recalled that somewhere he had read a theory that they originated with the same stock. As he was considering all this, his son came by the table, and pulled up a chair next to him.

"Hey Pop," he said.

"Bae, are you enjoying the Ball? Emma is looking quite well this evening."

"Emma's fine, and gorgeous, and things are going well, before you ask. We…we're thinking of maybe getting a place together." Rumplestilskin turned to his son and smiled. He had grown into a good man, and he wished he could take credit for any of it, but he knew the truth; he had been a poor father, but his boy had turned out well regardless.

"I'm glad," he said softly. At least it looked like Bae would get a happy ending. He glanced back at the dance floor; Belle was now dancing with a different dwarf (still no harm, nothing to be worried about), so why did he feel so sad?

"Pop, what's up with you and Belle?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, immediately shutting down.

"Don't give me that; remember, I'm your son. Belle, she loves you more than anything. You guys, you're like Emma's parents, or the dwarf and that fairy. It's magic, I can feel it. The true love kind of magic. So what's going on?"

"Nothing, son; nothing you need to worry about it," he said, and picked up his wine just to have something to do, rather than look at his son.

"You know, I always knew, always sensed something with Mom. You thought I didn't, but I knew, all the times you lied to me that she wasn't there because she was getting the shopping, all the nights when you put me to bed and told me stories while she was in the tavern. I knew. But Belle isn't like that; she's...she's everything Mom never was. Maybe if you had met her before..."

"If I'd met her before, I don't know. I don't know where we would be. But yes, I agree Bae; she would have been the mother you deserved, even if you would still be stuck with a coward for a father." He ducked his head. Bae was his son; he deserved to know what his father was. Rumplestiltskin reached into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a box to show his son. Bae opened it.

"Wow Pop," he said, his voice choked just a little.

"I made it...well, a long time ago, it a fit of...well, I can't even explain. It's been in my pocket for about three months."

"When are you going to ask her?" he asked.

"How can I ask her? She is young, and beautiful. Why should she chain herself to an old monster and a coward? One day she will realize that, and then..." he looked down, hoping that Belle wasn't watching from the dance floor.

"You know, I never thought you were a coward, until now," Bae said. He looked up sharply to meet his son's eyes. This was not the response he expected. "Papa, she loves you, no matter what. She is how I knew that you had really changed, the way you look at her, the way you are together. Even now, she has been dancing with all the guys here just to make you happy, because you told her you wanted her to have fun, even though you are sitting here being miserable and feeling sorry for yourself. Papa, it's time to let go of the past, look for the future; isn't that right?"

He was just about the answer his son when there was a disturbance on the dance floor. Both men turned to look at Belle, the object of their discussion. She had been dancing with one of the knights from King Midas' court, though at the moment Rumplestiltskin, couldn't remember his name and didn't care. But it was clear he had done something to piss of his lady. Belle had stopped dancing, causing someone to collide with them. Then before he could even rise, his lady, fury in her face, turned and struck the knight right across the face, leaving a lovely red handprint on his cheek, before turning and walking off the dance floor. There was a buzz around the room, and somehow, he knew, just knew that it was time to do something, something brave. He was a coward, always had been, his father before him, but that was not what he wanted his son to see, or his grandson. He would pay the price tomorrow, probably even later tonight, but he rose, leaned carefully on his cane before walking towards Belle.

"It's okay Rumple," she said as she neared him. "I handled it. Perhaps we should just go." There was a sadness in her eyes, and he just couldn't bear to see that. Belle was here; she wanted to be here with him, and no one and nothing was going to ruin her evening. But surprisingly, he didn't go with his first impulse to find the young man who had, with a certain instinct for survival, melted away into a group of similar young men. The music started again, this time a very slow song, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"First, Belle, would you dance with me?" he offered her his hand. Belle looked at him and smiled. She had been waiting all night. Oh, she knew with his leg it would be difficult, but she didn't want all of them, just one, just to stand with his arms around her, swaying to the strange music. People would probably talk, but frankly, she didn't care. Rumplestiltskin didn't want to hide, and she was damned if she would. She nodded and accepted his arm.

When they reached the center of the dance floor, in the middle of everyone, he very carefully shifted, and reached his arms around her. It was just a bit awkward, his cane hooked over the arm that was carefully around her waist, but he would be damned if he was going to use magic for this. Slowly, they noticed that some of the couples were drifting away. "I think we are being watched," Belle whispered softly.

"Let them watch. I have nothing to be ashamed of," he said.

"Nor do I." She snuggled even closer to him, resting her head against his chest, and giving a little more support to his leg as they swayed to the soft music. "Everything is perfect," she smiled at him.

"Everything?" he asked.

"Absolutely, well as perfect as it can be in a room full of people. Are you sure we aren't embarrassing your son, or your grandson?"

"At the moment, I couldn't care." He looked down at her blue eyes sparkling in the soft light. It was almost like they were the only two in the world.

"That's good; Henry was questioning me about...a few things," she said. He didn't really want to think about his grandson but he was curious what the little monkey had got up to.

"Oh?" he said, the change in his tone making her look up at him.

"It's nothing; he's trying to figure out how to fit me into his family picture. Asking me if we..." But she stopped. It wasn't a conversation she was sure she wanted to have.

"If we were going to get married?" he guessed, wondering if his son and grandson were somehow in collusion. "And what did you tell them?" he asked. He wanted to ask, desperately, but he wasn't sure he could survive her rejection.

"That you hadn't asked me," she said honestly, looking him straight in the eye, almost as if she was daring him.

"If I were to ask you?" he whispered, his voice coming out a hoarse croak. Belle smiled and he knew. There was a proper way to do these things, and it was neither really the time nor the place, but he was tired of it all. The song ended, people started to leave the dance floor. One chance, to do one brave thing. He had always been private, never been one for big splashy gestures, but here, in front of the town that still didn't know what to make of them, seemed right. Looking back later on, he was never exactly sure how it happened.

Rumplestiltskin pulled back, but kept one of her hands in his. Then very carefully before she could stop him or say a word (or before he could stop himself), he lowered himself down to one knee, ignoring the pain that went through him like a knife, as he pulled the box from his jacket. He'd been trying to find the right moment, and it never quite seemed to come. This was anything but the right moment, though it had been tradition in his village to ask your lady to marry you at Midsummer. Perhaps it had been that memory that had caused him to slip the box into his pocket; he wasn't sure, but he had.

"Lady Isabelle, will you marry me?" he asked. His voice was so soft that Belle could barely hear or believe it herself; even while she watched him, she couldn't believe it was happening. Like him, she wasn't a big fan of public displays. But she knew what this cost him, would cost him, and the fact that he would do it in front of everyone, family, friends and enemies all at once, meant no more questions, just one answer.

"Yes."

While the question had not necessarily been loud enough for the room to hear, the answer was, firm, certain, all Belle. Before he could do more than register her answer and slip the ring on her finger, they were surrounded. With a subtlety for which he would be forever grateful, he felt his son, and Prince Charming brace him as he rose to pull Belle into his arms. He could hear the congratulations, the cheers and good wishes. Perhaps it wouldn't last forever; perhaps someday she would leave her old monster, but perhaps not. After all, with no curse, they had just as much right to a happy ending as anyone else.